After thinking it over, Tommy finally said to Claude, "I understand what you’re saying, but even so, we can’t pour all our energy into the military!"
Tommy glanced at Henry, who was directing the serfs’ training, and said, "Claude, the Lord is a nobleman, not a general. What he needs is a prosperous territory, ever-increasing tax revenue, and a respectable daily life."
Claude raised a hand to cut Tommy off. "Alright, that’s enough. I’m not going to try and persuade the Lord. He must have given this a great deal of thought. What we need to do is complete the tasks he has assigned us."
Tommy sighed. ’If you won’t try to change his mind, then neither will I. In any case, I’m the Housekeeper. My main job is to manage internal expenses.’
"Training the serfs will improve their combat effectiveness. This will be very helpful for both defending the territory and expanding our power," Claude said earnestly.
Just then, a new recruit came running up to report the latest situation on the border to Tommy.
Tommy’s authority over the forty-man New Recruit Team hadn’t been revoked. As he was in charge of the castle’s internal affairs, it was perfectly normal for him to have men under his command, and these new recruits were loyal anyway.
Tommy frowned after hearing the report. After a moment of thought, he said, "It looks like we must strengthen our patrols. Count John’s men have withdrawn, and now some wild dogs are eyeing our lands again."
The two of them reported the situation to Henry and asked for his instructions.
"Roughly how many of them are there? How many groups? What are they after?"
"The exact number isn’t clear. A few dozen, maybe? Just one group of raiders. They’re probably after grain from the farmsteads."
Henry nodded, merely ordering Philip, Vasco, and Bain to intensify the patrols. ’A few dozen raiders are nothing,’ he thought. ’Not even enough for me to cut down by myself. No need to make a big deal out of it.’
’Unless... I let them gather slowly, and then we can have a major battle!’
Originally, Henry had planned to find a pretext to declare war on the neighboring nobles—something like, "I’ve lost a sheep," or, "A serf and a soldier have gone missing."
But then Henry suddenly realized that besides Odoche, there were no decent settlements around Westwood Laine at all. There wasn’t even a single proper hamlet, just a few Barons holed up in their earthen forts, scraping by.
If those roving bandits wanted to raid anywhere, their only option was to come to Westwood Laine and join the party.
Once he finished training his troops this month, he would ride out and stake his claim. At the very least, he would seize the three adjacent, rulerless Knight’s fiefs.
’Plant the flag, garrison the troops, build a house—and it’s mine!’
"By the way, have the merchants’ goods been delivered?"
"My Lord, the handover is complete."
Henry put his hands on his hips. It seemed the merchants’ activities had attracted the attention of this pack of wild dogs.
Desperadoes were all the same. Even if a local lord had a castle, armored soldiers, and Cavalry, they would still dare to try their luck with a raid.
"Come on. My training for the day is over. Let’s take a walk and plan how to develop the town."
Tommy and Claude felt it was miraculous as they watched the serfs, who now hung on Henry’s every word after only four or five days of training.
Accompanied by a few soldiers, the three of them ascended the castle walls and began to map out their plans for the vast tracts of land below.
"Claude, what do you think about building a tavern right here? In the future, this will be the center of the city."
"The blacksmith shop can be built over by the river. That way, if there’s a fire, water will be readily available. We can build a waterwheel there next spring. If the tailor’s shop is also going to handle leather goods, we can put it downstream to make it easier to soak hides and dye cloth. We can build the horse market next to it, which will be convenient for buying both horses and saddles. The open-air plaza could go there in the future as well."
Henry pointed at the vast, empty plots near the castle, enthusiastically planning out the future city.
He planned to build more houses there to gradually foster a population of urban commoners. They would become the main source of tax revenue, while the tenant farmers would serve as his stable, reliable foundation.
Pointing to an empty plot in the distance, Henry continued, "We can build an open-air market there later, making it convenient for the commoners to trade goods."
He turned to Tommy. "What do you think?"
Tommy nodded, smiling. "It’s an excellent idea, my Lord. But we must plan with caution."
Henry smiled, full of confidence. "Don’t worry about the funds. The city is bound to develop. More merchants will naturally flock here, and that will stimulate our cash flow."
Claude interjected, "And we can also increase our revenue through taxation."
"Mmm... that’s right."
「Over the next twenty-odd days, Westwood Laine’s rapid development got on track.」
After a month of intensive training, Henry’s serfs were completely transformed.
From motivational speeches to weapons drills, the serfs’ rate of progress was astonishing. Henry even began to wonder if they were Orcs.
’How could they improve so quickly just from sparring with each other?’
The Grassland Warriors moved on horseback as if on solid ground, their steeds galloping as fast as the wind.
From horseback, they could easily hit targets twenty paces away with their composite bows. Every swing of their scimitars was a chilling, lethal threat.
’They’re no different from Horse Bandits!’
The Imperial archers also demonstrated competent marksmanship, capable of effectively hitting targets within fifty paces.
They weren’t deadeyes, but at least their arrows weren’t flying wild anymore.
The twang of bowstrings and the whistle of arrows in flight mingled together, reminding Henry of his life before he came to this world. The SWOOSH SWOOSH SWOOSH of the Vikia Bowmen was a memory that remained crystal clear.
As for the New Recruit Team, once they put on armor, they were a frontline force ready to hold the line!
Henry looked at these men who had been transformed from serfs into soldiers and nodded in satisfaction. ’They’re ready for the battlefield!’
For the better part of a month, Henry had been carefully stringing along those desperadoes, keeping them tantalizingly close but never letting them get their hands on anything.
As a result, their numbers grew larger and larger, reminiscent of the situation when Henry had first arrived months ago.
Desperadoes, it seemed, had short memories. Wave after wave of them would come. Even if they knew many had died here before, they wouldn’t back down unless another group of them was wiped out first.
"My Lord, for these serfs and shepherd slaves to become such fine soldiers in only a month... your training methods are truly worthy of admiration."
Henry smiled and suddenly turned to Tommy. "By the way, what about those bandits? This is a perfect opportunity for the new recruits and your men to get some hands-on experience and draw first blood."
Tommy replied instantly, "They aren’t Bandits, just brigands and raiders. There are over a hundred raiders, but they’re nothing to worry about—even a serf with a spear could hold them off. It’s the brigands who have some skill. There are more than forty of them."
Brigands generally referred to desperadoes who wore leather armor, carried iron weapons, and used projectiles like throwing axes, Javelins, or shortbows. Internally, Henry categorized them as ’elite mobs.’
"Good. Then this time, we’ll be the ones robbing them."